by Tim Flanagan
Leaving the cave they took a track which wound up the side of the rock face towards the top. Joe slowly moved forward, helped on by Scarlet and supported by one of the thick sticks they had acquired inside the forest. The higher they went the more low growing vegetation they came across, tucked in amongst the thick chalky white boulders. Ralphina had already walked this path on several occasions when she was out looking for food and water and guided them confidently ahead. Halfway up they stopped beside a clear pool where the rainwater had trickled down from the top of the mountain and collected in a small pool. At the bottom of the pool the smooth surface of the rock sparkled as the light reflected through the crystal clear water and off small fragments of quartz that lay embedded within the stone. They all refreshed themselves and washed the chalky dust from their faces before eating some of the meat and honey that Ralphina had reserved for the journey
After a suitable rest they continued on. Joe was stronger than he had been the day before but he still found the twisted path towards the top to be tiring. He was aware of the delay his illness had caused and didn’t want to hold the party up any longer so did his best to put on a brave face and continue after the others. As they made their way higher up the rock face the path began to narrow as it wound between heavy rocks, overhanging at impossible angles like they would crash onto the path as soon as a foot was placed amongst them. As their progress became slower and more difficult, Joe took the opportunity to stand and rest while he waited for the others to make their way forward. There was always a large boulder for him to lean against or fig trees that provided soft and juicy fruit.
By the afternoon they took the last few steps upwards and onto a dry plateau where the wind blew fiercely off the sea stinging their cheeks as it whipped at their faces. Very few plants grew on the top of the mountain, and those that did seemed to be bent at awkward angles away from the sea, pushed by the wind into unnatural shapes. From the height of the rock face they got a good look at their surroundings in every direction. They took a few moments to look over the marshes and the cove to the west and the forest they had all come from. For Ralphina, she was leaving her home behind her and she knew that the life she had lived would probably never be the same again. To the east the Rocks of Goran rose into the sky, they seemed so large that they could almost reach out and touch them, but Ralphina had said that the journey there would still take them another day at least. Beyond the Rocks of Goran and rising further into the sky, the Twisted Tower of the faerie queen appeared dark like a melted and distorted knife thrusting up from amongst the soft green of the tree tops that stood around it. To the north, beyond the wastelands of Brackenrigg were the mountainous lands of the ground dwellers, empty and desolate and now capped with snow; to the south the sea opened up blue and vast, the sunlight dancing on the surface like a shower of crystal dust twinkling in the light.
'We cannot rest here,' Ralphina broke the silence of their thoughts, 'we are too exposed to the queen’s eye. The nearer we get to her, the more she will feel our presence.'
They moved on silently, taking another route across the mountain top. At times the ledges were narrow as they rounded taller peaks, leaving only just enough room for them to continue in single file, their backs pressed hard against the rocks, a fall to certain death below them. The wind whipped against them, making their progress difficult and slow. Eventually they stopped again. Joe was exhausted, he only managed to pull himself forward by concentrating on each individual step one at a time. Ralphina had given Joe most of the honey to aid his healing as well as give him the energy he needed to continue.
As night began to fall, they reached a group of white trees. The air around them seemed to be alive with whispers that got louder and louder the nearer they got to the trees. Edgar nervously drew his sword and started to turn round in a circle looking for the source of the ghostly voices. Raelyn stopped dead as if his feet were glued to the spot.
The whispering continued.
16. The Citadel of Fraegtore
Max woke suddenly when one of the carriage's wheels dropped into an uneven part of the road. He must have been asleep for some time as there was now an oppressive greyness in the air that hadn’t been there earlier. The trees had now thinned and the terrain appeared rockier and more uneven than before. Max looked through the bars of the cage past the fat jailer and along a stone track with short walls either side leading into a dirty grey cloud of fog. On the other side of the walls was a sheer drop, broken only by the harsh rocky side which seemed to cut in beneath the track making it appear that they were floating within the fog.
Max looked at Littleskink who had also been watching the progress of the carriage with interest.
‘Have we arrived at the queen's tower?' he whispered to Littleskink.
The little goblin shook his head nervously.
‘While you were sleeping things have been happening,’ he whispered back to Max. ‘There have been two more attacks on the scouts and there have been three more deaths an' as many more injuries. Travel on the
Shadow Road has got much worse than before. Even the donestre aren't safe - so neither are we. T' add to our troubles the fog has dropped and we are more vulnerable to attack. I heard one of the scouting party say they had found somewhere safe to make camp for the night. This must be it.’ He pointed along the walled track in front of them. As the convoy progressed forward it felt like the track was leading them into the fog and clouds. Slowly the dark outline of a building began to appear along with tall skinny pine trees that clung to the gaps between the sharp jagged rocks on the slopes beneath its walls.
They wound their way along the narrow path and passed through a pair of thick wooden doors heavily studded with iron rivets. The doors showed signs of war - there were deep gouges where axes and swords had struck against the wood. Amongst the clouds there was silence except for the sound of the horse hooves as they clicked against the stone path. The carriages drew up within the entrance compound of what seemed to be a small walled town. The greyness of the night sky together with the heavy fog enveloped everything around them. The outer walls of the town were about twelve foot tall and designed not just for defence but to mark out the boundary of the village from the deadly fall into the ravine below. From the thickness of the archway which housed the entrance, Max assumed that the wall was thick enough to allow soldiers to patrol along the top.
But the town seemed dead.
No one came to greet them and no one patrolled the wall. The town was made up of many tall narrow houses crammed side by side to form a winding street mirrored in the middle by a central building that appeared larger and more dominant than the rest. Max noticed that the door to each house was smaller than normal and there was only just enough space between each row of houses to allow a person to pass along. The town was obviously not built for large creatures like the donestre who were moving along the small streets in single file with their shoulders and backs hunched down avoiding the signs and wooden beams that crossed from one side to the other. There were also some small stone bridges that connected the central building to different sections of the wall which the donestre also had to duck beneath.
The other carriages rattled through the entrance and stopped next to the cage with Max in. The fat jailer tended to his horses first, providing them with clean straw that he had found stacked up at the back of the stables, before turning his attention to the needs of the prisoners. By now Max was feeling very stiff and his arms and legs ached. The limited amount of movement within the cage hadn’t been enough to allow him to relieve the soreness in his leg muscles.
As soon as another donestre arrived to help the jailer, they were moved one by one from the cage. The clasps around their necks were left in place, but as they had not found any holding cells in the town yet, Max’s neck clasp was linked to that of Littleskink by a short length of chain, whilst the grey cloaked man was chained to one of the wooden supporting posts of the stable roof. The unicorn was removed from the cage last a
nd in a desperate attempt at freedom managed to remove one of her legs from the twine that had bound them and kick the fat jailer in his soft stomach. Wheezing for breath he automatically drew a dirty short dagger from his belt and moved to cut out her heart, but his arm was held firmly by another donestre who snapped a command in their own language. Instead he just snarled at the unicorn and replaced the dagger back inside his belt. It didn’t take much effort before the two of them had the unicorn back under control and she too was chained to one of the stable posts by her neck but with her legs now free to exercise.
Once the whole convoy had moved inside the town walls, the entrance doors swung shut with a heavy thud and were secured by a large wooden post that slotted across them. The donestre didn’t think that Max and Littleskink posed any threat to them so they were left to roam around the small town freely. As they were tied together and were much shorter than the donestre, they were not likely to get very far even if they could escape. They were given a chicken wing with very little meat on together with a cup of ale. They ate furiously until all that remained were the bones, picked clean of every scrap of meat they could find.
There was little to see within the town except for the plain stone houses. The donestre had lit some torches along the sides of the buildings that flickered an orange flame to light the streets in the increasingly cloudy night air. All of the houses appeared to have been designed for small people, about the same height as themselves, as each entrance only seemed to come up to the chest on a donestre. But in every house they looked in, they found signs that the occupants had abandoned their homes in a hurry. Pots and pans had been left hanging above the small fireplaces and short chairs remained tucked under the tables, but all valuables and weapons appeared to be missing. It felt eerily quiet, a town abandoned except for the donestres who had claimed it for their evening camp.
‘Where do you think everyone is?' Max asked Littleskink uncomfortably.
‘Wherever they went, they went armed with every weapon they could find.’
The cold damp air clung in small droplets of moisture to their clothes so they walked beneath an arched walkway in one of the thick internal stone walls of the central building and into a part of the building that was separated into several different high ceiling rooms all interlinked to each other. The room was lavishly decorated with a bright painting that told a story as it wound its way around the walls. There were scenes of hunting and fighting, farm working and building and all done by short bearded characters. A large picture in the centre showed a red bearded figure sitting on a throne with many shields and weapons at his feet.
‘They look like dwarves,’ said Littleskink. ‘Different to goblins of course, they have more facial hair and flatter noses,’ he added, remembering that Max was unfamiliar with the creatures of his world.
Max recalled the dwarf he had encountered at the harbour.
‘Do you think this painting is about the dwarves that lived here?’
‘Could be. They are very hardy an' strong people. They wouldn't give up their homes without a fight. So I wonder what could have been so bad to make them leave.’
They continued through some of the stone doorways following the sound of voices and entered what looked like the kitchen. A massive stone fire surround, stained and sooty and big enough for Max and Littleskink to walk inside, towered over the room from the central wall. Above it a thick round chimney took the smoke away from the fire and released it into the night sky. The donestre had already set a fire going with anything they could find including discarded furniture and it was now burning and crackling happily to itself. Seated along the length of a heavily scarred table were some of the donestre, their backs to Max and Littleskink, but their hooked swords always at hand. They all seemed a bit jumpy and nervous, no doubt from the recent attacks on their scouts. As the two prisoners entered the room, they threw a look of disgust at them or spat at the floor in front of their feet.
‘Come on,’ said Max to Littleskink as he nodded his head towards the next room. He decided it would be better to keep themselves out of the way of the donestre as much as possible. Although it was warm inside the kitchen, the two chained prisoners stumbled away through to the joining room where they stretched themselves out side by side on top of a collection of feather filled cushions, their stomachs still warm and contented with the chicken wings and ale.
17. At the Quaking Aspen
The whispering voices were in the air around them but at the same time appeared to be nowhere in particular. They even sounded like they were coming from behind them, even though there was no more than a flat rocky surface that fell over the edge of the rock face down to the marshes. Edgar squinted between the ghostly white trunks that blocked their way, but could see nothing.
… the Green Huntsmen are massing …
… night shall be our shield, whilst the earth and rocks provide our shelter …
'The Quaking Aspen,' said Ralphina to no one in particular. She walked forward, reached out a hand and placed it on the smooth white bark of the first tree. The bark was stretched tight around the trunk, creased and gathered where it had grown in different directions away from the wind. Along the trunk were black scars with small trails of sap running beneath like tears from eyes.
Ralphina closed her eyes and listened carefully to the tree, but all any of the others could hear were odd lines, different voices from different conversations or a jumble of words in many different languages.
Raelyn hung back with Edgar and the children - Scarlet could feel the wolf’s uneasiness and confusion. They listened to the whispering and continued to look around to see where it was coming from. Even when the wind fell, the whispering continued.
Eventually Ralphina moved away from the tree.
… death will fall upon the weak … her army grows by the day …
'The sacred Aspen trees hear the voices of this world that are carried on the wind. They hear all and know all. A tree will whisper its secrets to those that can listen.' Ralphina looked towards Scarlet who understood what Ralphina meant. She moved forward and placed a hand on the bark like Ralphina had done.
Despite the cold wind, the bark felt warm and alive to Scarlet's touch. She closed her eyes and listened. At first all she could hear were the whispering voices swirling around, but then she began to distinguish between the different sounds and like a jigsaw puzzle they began to piece together to form conversations that became so alive it was as if she was actually listening from behind a closed door to the secrets and lies of the creatures of the world.
… she has seen a knight, my queen … Scarlet heard a man’s voice say. There was a soothing sound to his voice that gave the impression that you could trust him as much as you could trust the soft hissing of a snake before it coils its prey.
… is he the ancient one that will take my throne … replied the higher pitched voice of a lady.
… he could be. He talks of King Arthur …
… then the time is drawing near. Call every orc and hobgoblin from every corner of the wastelands. I want the griffins and daughters of sirens from the sky. I want every donestre back at the castle and every Horned Beast of Lucifer my gold can buy … There was now desperation and even fear in the female voice.
… but, my queen, our gold stores are nearly as low as our food levels. We barely have enough supplies to maintain the army we already have camped within the castle walls …
… then find more food … the queen shouted … send out more raiding parties to gather everything they can find …
… there has already been an increase in resistance to your taxes. Food is becoming limited. Every day we lose more from each convoy along the
Shadow Road than before. The rebel peasants are becoming more defiant … … then kill more of them. Burn their homes and steal their babies … spat the queen’s voice.
… what of the fire elves … interrupted another, lower pitched man’s voice that sounded like a growl.
… my
informants have sent reports they have arrived at Morgan's Landing but are having difficulty docking their boats … replied the snake-tongued man … The Galleons are too large and too many to land in one go so they have set up a temporary camp along the beaches whilst the troops disembark …
… how many elves are there …? asked the queen.
… there have been estimates of anything between one and two thousand foot soldiers together with five hundred archers as well as their servants and every elf lord’s squire. Movement of those numbers along the
Shadow Road will be slow so we shouldn’t expect them for several days … … I want an army to rival even that of the ancient kings … demanded the queen.
… you will, my queen, but such numbers take time and gold to gather … he tried to soothe the queen’s temper with his gentle tone.
… if it takes too long, Lord Sliptongue, I will drain the blood from your body whilst your heart still beats and paint it on every shield and every helmet in my army. What remains of your flesh will be fed to the black minotaurs and your bones to the hyenas …
Scarlet withdrew her hand quickly from the bark of the tree, shocked by the conversation she had just overheard.
‘What did you hear?’ asked Ralphina.
‘The faerie queen,’ Scarlet turned towards the others. ‘I’ve just heard her. She was talking about her army, about the thousands of fire elves that are coming to join her as well as all the other creatures.’
‘What else?' asked Edgar.
Scarlet looked Edgar in the eyes. ‘I think she was also talking about you. Someone had seen a knight of King Arthur.’
‘That must be my sister. Lupa, must have seen you, Edgar,’ said Ralphina excitedly. ‘She must still be alive.’